The Ironsmith (2 page)

Noah did not endorse the life his cousin had chosen. For all that he thought the Baptist was a good man and a true servant of God—perhaps even a prophet—it would not have occurred to Noah to go off and be his disciple, living on nuts and berries beside the Jordan River. His piety simply did not take that form. Yet he did see why it had occurred to Joshua. Even in childhood they had differed widely in temperament, but they had always understood each other.

And now Joshua wanted to go off to some fishing village in the north to preach the Baptist's message of repentance, and Noah had no trouble grasping why, for Joshua, that might be the inevitable choice. Thus it was also inevitable that Noah would help him to do it.

The only question was how.

The first step was to restore Joshua's strength.

It had been a shock to see him in such a condition. They had not met since the Passover, two months before, and he had looked wild enough then, with his torn, faded cloak and his tangled beard down to his breastbone, but now he appeared spent, as if the life he had been leading had at last used him up.

He needed rest and quiet and safety, and these things, at least, Noah could provide.

When Sarah came home, Noah told her that Joshua was asleep upstairs. Then he told her that the Baptist had been arrested. She seemed to guess the rest.

Sarah was tall and thin, which made her arms appear even longer than they were. When she grew nervous or excited she seemed to lose control of her movements and was always knocking things over, which explained why she wrapped one long hand around the other and held them both against her modest bosom as she asked the inevitable question.

“Is Joshua a fugitive?”

“He doesn't know. They didn't try to take him with the Baptist, but they could easily change their minds. I think it best we assume they will.”

“What can we do?”

“Hide him until he is fit to travel and then help him escape to the north.”

“Is he ill?”

“No. Just worn out.”

“I bought fish,” she said, smiling as if everything had worked out perfectly. “It is strengthening and easy on the stomach.”

Noah kissed his sister on the cheek.

*   *   *

It was only the middle of the afternoon, so Noah returned to his forge.

As soon as he was gone Sarah went upstairs to the spare bedroom, where Joshua was asleep. The door was slightly ajar and she could tell from the sound of his breathing that he would not wake up for some hours. She returned to the kitchen, where she had to make decisions about dinner.

Half a carp, split down the backbone, dried and salted, was wrapped in palm fronds and lying on the table. Careful planning was essential when one cooked for only two people, and Sarah had been hesitant about buying a fish—even half a fish—that was nearly a cubit in length, but with Joshua there it would be just enough. She would soak it in unmixed wine and then add some water, a few herbs, and a little flour and let it all simmer in an iron pot until sunset.

It would be pleasant to have Joshua in the house for a few days. Like Noah, Sarah had grown up with her cousins, the sons and daughters of Joseph and Miriam, who lived in a house separated from her grandfather's by little more than a few paces of open ground. Joshua was not her particular favorite, but he was family, and Sarah had been a close friend of his wife. She had played with Rachel when they were children. As young women, hardly out of girlhood, they had shared many secrets, and Rachel, her womb torn open trying to give birth to Joshua's dead son, had died in Sarah's arms.

It was another bond with Joshua, the grief he and Sarah had each endured when Rachel was lowered into her grave. She could not look at Joshua without remembering his wife.

Still, she had always thought Joshua odd, and he had grown even odder since Rachel's death.

For one thing, she did not understand his piety. He had always been pious, but in recent years his feeling for God had grown into something that Sarah could hardly put a name to. It was odd. That was the only word for it.

The Baptist was a prophet, and that was a whole other thing, but ordinary men were not prophets. Joshua, she felt quite sure, was not a prophet. He was a carpenter who had lost his wife. It was the duty of ordinary men to live in the world according to God's law. God bid us to say prayers at the proper times, to honor the holy days, and to keep His commandments. That was enough. That was righteousness. Joshua should go back to his trade and marry again.

For that matter, Noah should marry again. In Noah's case, his sister had particular reasons for thinking so.

Just as the sun was going down, Sarah removed the iron pot from its hook in the fireplace and set it aside. By the time Noah entered the kitchen, dinner was ready.

“Is Joshua still asleep?” he asked, after he had sat down at the kitchen table.

“Yes. I looked in on him just a few minutes ago.”

Her brother nodded, and then his face became shadowed with anxiety.

“Eat your stew,” Sarah ordered, in a voice that perfectly mimicked their grandmother's.

This made Noah laugh and the shadows disappeared. He picked up a piece of bread and tore it in half. He began using it to scoop up pieces of fish.

Sarah, who had not touched her food, sat with her hands folded together. She seemed to be trying to take up as little space as possible.

“Will Joshua go back to Nazareth?” she asked.

Without looking up, her brother shook his head.

“If they want to arrest him, that will be the first place they look. He has it in mind to go north, to some fishing village where he has friends.”

“What will he do there?”

“Preach, I assume. He wants to carry on John's teaching.”

There followed a silence, which Noah understood to be his sister's way of expressing her disapproval. He looked up at her and smiled.

“Did you think that he would go back to being a carpenter?”

Sarah didn't answer immediately. Instead, she looked down at her stew, then tore the corner off a piece of bread and began eating.

This indicated, as clearly as any words, that she was upset.

“What do you think they will do to the Baptist?” she asked finally.

“Given that the Tetrarch is Old Herod's son, I think they will kill him.”

“Why would they do that? He is a holy man.”

“Why then would they arrest him? The Tetrarch is no David. He will not suffer even a prophet's rebuke.”

With a shade too much haste, Sarah reached for her wine. A drop spilled out and ran sluggishly down the side of the cup. She instantly put the cup down again.

“Perhaps this village in the north could use a carpenter,” she said, almost defiantly. “Joshua needs to settle down somewhere and begin his life again.”

Even as she was speaking the words, she knew they implied more than she intended. She had merely to look at her brother's face to know that he understood what was in her heart.

You want him to marry again,
his expression said.
As you want me to marry again, so that then you can marry Abijah.

Instantly she felt ashamed. It was not Noah's fault. He had told her, many times, “
I will not perish because you are not here to cook my meals. I can hire a servant. Abijah is a good man. You should marry him and be happy. The very last thing I want is to deny you this.
”

And she did love Abijah. He was so handsome. And he loved her—skinny, awkward creature that she was. Every girl in the district was half mad in love with him, yet he wanted only her.

But her brother—her good, kind, pious, learned brother, the best of men—how could she leave him? She remembered how crushed with sorrow he had been when Ruth died, how his heart had bled with mourning. Sarah had come to stay with him after that, to keep him company and see that he remembered to eat his meals, and she had never left.

She could never leave her brother alone. Never. Abijah, she could only hope, would be patient.

Secretly she blamed Ruth. Sarah could not have brought herself to say such a thing, or perhaps even to think it, yet she felt it. Ruth had been a good enough sort of woman, but nothing beyond the ordinary. Why did her memory hold Noah in such bondage?

And there were certainly plenty of women who would have been prepared to take her place. One was Sarah's friend Huldah, who showed a lively enough interest that Sarah persuaded her brother to invite Huldah and her father to dinner.

Noah had spent most of the evening in conversation with the father about some question concerning the calendar. He was perfectly gracious to his sister's friend, but that was all.

For three days Sarah heard nothing from Huldah, and then they met at the house of a mutual friend. With some hesitation, Sarah brought up the subject of the dinner party.

“Your brother looks at me with no more interest than if I were a cooking pot,” Huldah said. She was right, of course, and that ended Sarah's efforts as a matchmaker.

“This stew is very good,” Noah said, smiling. He meant to distract her, she knew. She had the feeling sometimes that he could peer straight into her mind. “The broth is delicious.”

*   *   *

About two hours after sunset, Joshua woke up. Noah had been sitting in the dark, waiting.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“Yes. And very thirsty.”

Sarah had kept the stew warm. There was also fresh bread, and Noah watered the wine eight parts to three. It was a meal for an invalid.

Nevertheless, Joshua seemed to enjoy it.

“John cared nothing about food,” he said. “Sometimes it would be days before he would remember to eat. If Simon hadn't brought his fishing net, the rest of us might have starved.”

“Is he your friend in Capernaum? You said it was a fishing village.”

“Yes. That's him. Simon went home to visit his wife about a week before John was arrested, but he left his net.”

“What was John like?”

“You never heard him preach?”

“No.”

Joshua shrugged, as if he had decided to forgive the oversight, and then he said, “John was the purest soul I ever knew.”

“In what way?”

“In every way. He cared nothing about pleasure or comfort. For John, there was only God. He was God's prophet.”

“So naturally the Tetrarch arrested him.”

“Of course. John expected it.”

“Did he?”

“Yes.” Joshua smiled tightly, giving the impression that its very obviousness was painful to him. “I remember how he walked over to meet the Tetrarch's soldiers. It was as if he welcomed them as friends.”

“Did he wish to die, then?”

“I don't think it made any difference to him. ‘Let me meet the destiny God has prepared for me,' he said. What mattered was the will of God.”

“What matters to you?”

“To carry on John's teaching. To make myself worthy to be called his disciple.” Joshua smiled, as if he had just said something amusing. “Did you ever think that I, of all people, would end as a messenger of God?”

“Perhaps not, but somehow it fails to surprise me.”

*   *   *

On the evening following the Sabbath, after Noah had returned from Nazareth, Joshua was waiting for him.

“Did you see my family?” he asked.

Noah shook his head. “Only at the prayer house.”

Joshua seemed disappointed, and let the subject drop.

“I think it is time I was on my way,” he said, finally. “I have my strength back.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then I would like to offer a suggestion. Take the road to Tiberias, which is well traveled and safe. Then journey to Capernaum by boat.”

“And if they are looking for me?”

Noah crossed his arms over his chest and smiled, visibly pleased with himself.

“Who will they be looking for?” he asked. “A follower of John. A beggar. An ascetic with a long, ragged beard.” He reached out and playfully pulled on Joshua's chin whiskers. “While they are searching for this man, they will not see you.”

“How will you manage it?”

“Leave it to me.”

The next morning, early, Noah sent his sister off to the marketplace. Sarah knew what was required and would make a better selection than he could himself.

She came back two hours later with an embroidered tunic of Egyptian cotton and a wool cloak dyed blue. She had also brought back new sandals and a small vial of scented oil.

“You did very well,” her brother told her. “Now, can you manage something about his hair and beard?”

“All I need are scissors and a comb.”

An hour later, a different person stood before them. Joshua's hair, glistening with oil, was swept back from his forehead and ended just at the collar of his robe, and his beard was cut short and to a fashionable point. Sarah, with a woman's attention to detail, had even trimmed his fingernails.

Joshua, who seemed amused by his transformation, raised his arms and turned slowly in a full circle for their inspection.

“There is still something missing.”

Noah shook his head and then disappeared upstairs. When he came back he showed them a silver ring with a small red stone.

“Put it on,” he said to Joshua. “I think a bit of jewelry is necessary to complete the impression.”

Joshua held up his hand, turning it this way and that so the ring caught the light.

“Where did you get this?” he asked, making the question sound like an accusation.

“It was in a trunk in the cellar when I moved back into this house. I can only assume it must have been my father's.”

“Then someday you will want it returned.” Joshua smiled, with just a hint of mischief. “I promise I won't give it away.”

*   *   *

Joshua had to be dissuaded from leaving immediately, but Noah pointed out that it was an eight-hour walk to Tiberias and thus he could not hope to reach there before sunset. But if he left at first light, he would be in Tiberias by the early afternoon and might still catch a boat to Capernaum.